Sleepless Nights
by Clockwork-Winchester
Summary: After the events of the final battle, George finds sleep is not as easy to come by anymore.


**A/N: So, this was originally going to be a part of a larger - possibly multi-chaptered story. However, with the way life has been treating me lately, I haven't had much time or inspiration to write and this has been sitting in a folder in my computer unfinished for quite some time now. My muse seems to have somewhat returned however, so I decided to post this to see if anyone finds it interesting enough and wants me to continue. I'm pretty sure the same story has been done many times, but I figured starting with something familiar was a good way to get back to writing. So, please read and let me know your opinion of it :) A****nd remember, this takes place shortly after Fred's funeral, so George is - understandably - in a very dark place at the moment.**

* * *

_When George opened his eyes, he was greeted with an impossible sight, one he had been sure he would never get to see again._

''… _Fred?'' he said tentatively, hope and disbelief warring inside him. When his twin made no sign of acknowledging his presence, other than continuing to stare at him, ''Fred?'' George said again._

''_Did it hurt, Georgie?'' Fred said finally._

''_Did what hurt?''_

''_When they killed you,'' his brother replied. _

''_What?'' George said, thoroughly confused. ''Fred… I…,'' he trailed off, at a loss for words. His alarm rose when he noticed a wide gash forming on Fred's forehead, blood slowly trickling down his face. _

''_They killed you,'' Fred said solemnly. ''They killed you when they killed me.''_

George bolted upright with a gasp. He cast a look around, frantically trying to regain his bearings. After a couple of minutes of his breath coming out in short, terrified breaths, his eyes adjusted to the dark room and he was able to make out the shape of the bed he was lying on and the one next to it.

For one wonderful, terrible second he forgot what had happened and turned to his left, hoping Fred was awake so he could make a joke and take his mind off that awful nightmare. Then reality hit, hard, and George found his eyes filling with tears. He blinked rapidly to clear them. _Fuck. _What had he been thinking, coming back to his- their -old room? It was hard enough in the shop, having to cope with Fred's absence. But here, in the Burrow, in the room where they had spent all their life in… it was like Fred was everywhere. On the bed, letting out loud snores on purpose when George said he wanted to sleep. In the doorway, pushing George aside in order to get to the bathroom first. Next to George, falling asleep on the same bed just like when they were children, the night they got Harry out of Privet Drive, Fred threatening his brother with dire consequences if he ever breathed a word of this or the conversation resulting to it to anyone. George shook his head violently, as if that would help erase the memories taking over his mind. It wasn't fair.

Scratch that. It was wrong, purely and bloody _wrong. _Fred should be there, laughing with him, annoying him, filling George's life with his presence. Instead, he was left with emptiness; in the bed next to him, by his side, in his heart.

George spent the rest of the night wide awake, his eyes tracing invisible patterns on the bedroom ceiling. He had never learned to sleep alone.

* * *

In retrospect, George should probably not have made such a decision after the night he had had. Didn't they say that when you have to make a good decision, it's better to sleep on it and make your mind up in the morning? Last night had pretty much been the opposite of that.

So yeah. Probably best if he had stayed at home and tried to catch whatever little sleep he could.

_But no, cause you don't do the sensible thing, do you, Weasley?_ The sensible thing would have been to stay home, to talk to someone else instead of leaving on his own at the crack of dawn. The sensible thing would have been for Fred to be next to him, the two of them sound asleep after a day of teasing and pranks and laughter, feeling exhausted and happy.

He had come to really hate his thoughts lately.

There was nothing to be done, however, since he had reached his destination by now. George took a deep breath, steeled himself and looked down at Fred's grave.

Fred's grave. _Fred's grave. _Fred. Grave. No matter how many times he repeated it, his mind refused to accept it. On their own, he could understand the words, together… It didn't feel right, putting Fred and grave in the same sentence. It just wasn't real. And yet, it was, in that small part of his mind, where reality kept trying to break through the walls he had put up. For now he resisted, but he knew with absolute certainty that there would come a time when his feeble protection would fail and then he would break, completely.

Tears pricked his eyes and the site before him blurred momentarily.

George blinked and as the sight in front of him cleared, he immediately wished it would blur again. Because he couldn't bear to look at it, not for one moment longer. _Coward,_ a voice in his mind hissed, _your brother died fighting for a better world, for you, and you can't even look at his grave? _George gritted his teeth, shook his head, but the voice refused to be muted. It seemed some part of his brain relished in conjuring up his worst fears and thoughts and every day that passed, it became even louder. _Coward, you're nothing but a coward, _the voice said, adopting a mocking tone now. _Fred was so much better than you, _it went on and George just slumped a bit as if his suspicion was confirmed. Fred _had been _better_, _funnier, more clever and impulsive, the better prankster, the better brother. And George had followed along, secure in the knowledge that there would always be someone by his side. He had never thought to prepare for a time when that would no longer be true, because such a thing would be impossible, right? Right? They were _Fred and George_, had been for all his life and George did not know how to go on living being _just George_. It sounded so… lonely.

_Maybe, if you had died instead of Fred, it would've been better, _the voice said calmly, no longer hissing or mocking, but rather as if simply stating facts. And it made sense, George could see himself agreeing and that was when he lost it.

''Shut up! Shut up, shut up, you don't know anything, anything!'' he roared, vaguely aware that he looked like a lunatic, what with flailing his hands and shouting at the air, but not caring. ''Just shut up, shut-''

''George?'' another voice interrupted his tirade and it took him a moment to realize that this was not another voice in his head, but rather it belonged to someone and more specifically,

''Bill?'' George said hoarsely, with not a small amount of surprise.

''Yeah, George, it's me,'' Bill approached him, trepidation clear on his face, as if he expected him to snap at any second. Not that George could blame him, really. ''Is-is everything alright?''

_Don't ask stupid questions._ ''Peachy,'' George replied in a monotonous voice, before turning his back to his older brother and willing his hands to stop shaking.'' Why are you here?'' he asked then, not out of any particular curiosity, but just to give himself some time to get it together.

''I – just couldn't sleep, I guess,'' said Bill and something in his tone made George turn around and face him and whatever words he was going to say got stuck in his throat. Because Bill looked… well, he looked like George felt. His skin was pale – too pale – there were dark circles under his eyes and his long hair was hopelessly tangled, as if he had forgotten the concept of brushing. It almost made George want to reach out and touch him, comfort him - almost. But he just stood there and so did Bill, the two of them looking at each like they had entered a staring contest. Bill broke first.

''Um, George, are you – is everything alright?''

You've said that before, George didn't say. Bill sounded hesitant, almost shy, so different from the confident, perfect student and professional curse-breaker George knew. So, he remained silent.

No matter how hesitant he sounded though, Bill didn't seem willing to drop the subject. ''What are you doing here?''

''Sight-seeing,'' George answered with as much amount of sarcasm as he could muster. Which, granted, wasn't much at the moment.

His sarcasm, however, only seemed to embolden Bill, since he went on, more confident. ''You know, you were behaving kind of weird when I saw you.''

''Yeah, so? Afraid I've gone crazy?''_ Bit late for that, _the ever-present voice whispered gleefully in his head.

Bill flinched, but refused to back down. ''No, of course not! But, George, you have to admit shouting at thin air is not exactly normal-''

George let out a harsh sound that faintly resembled a laugh. ''Normal? Of course it's not _normal. _Wanna know what else isn't normal?'' he said, his voice rising with each word. ''The two of us being here instead of sleeping in our beds isn't normal. Not being able to sleep even for a couple hours isn't normal. Looking in the mirror and no longer recognizing yourself isn't normal. Visiting your _dead brother's grave ISN'T NORMAL!''_ George had to stop and take deep breaths in an effort to calm himself down. Bill was visibly shaken by then.

''I know you want to try and fix everything Bill, but unfortunately I'm a lost cause. Fred-he, he's _dead_ and there's nothing you can do about it. Nothing I can do about it.''

''So what's your plan? Just give up? You know Fred wouldn't want that!''

''I don't know!'' George shouted, feeling his anger returning. So much for those calming breaths. '' I don't know what to do and I don't know what he would want. I was- I am his twin and I don't know what he would want and he's not here to tell me! He's not here! And guess what? That's not normal either! It's not…'' He trailed off, unable to speak any more due to a lump that had settled in his throat and wasn't giving any indications of going away any time soon. His eyesight had blurred again.

Bill started coming closer, stopping when he was close enough to George to reach out and hug him. He didn't though and George thanked whatever lucky stars he had left, because if his big brother so much as attempted to touch him right now, he would break down. And he couldn't break down. _He couldn't._

''George, I know,'' Bill said and there was a note of desperation in his voice. ''I know that-that Fred is dead and that you miss him and that it's not fair. And I'm sorry. He was my little brother and I should have protected him. But I didn't and you have no idea how sorry I am for that.''

Bill barely choked out the last words and immediately turned his face away from George. And, just like that, George finally knew what to do. So, it was him who reached out and gathered Bill in his arms as if he were a child. For a couple of seconds Bill was stiff in his embrace, but when George whispered, ''You have nothing to be sorry for,'' Bill let himself go and the first sobs escaped his mouth and filled the air around them. Loud, heart-wrenching sobs, and as each of them shook them, George realized with a kind desperate relief that he was fighting a losing battle against his own emotions. He let out a deep, shuddering breath, tightened his hold on Bill and _finally_, let himself break down.

And for an undeterminable amount of time the only sound came from the two men, joined together, grieving.

* * *

Eventually the two of them disentangled from each other and, even though they avoided eye contact, both were much calmer than when they first arrived at the grave.

''So… We should go,'' said Bill after a while, his tone hesitant once again.

''Right,'' George replied, but stayed where he was. Bill regarded him for a couple minutes and when it became apparent George had no intention of moving, he grabbed his arm, apparently having decided to Apparate them himself.

George hadn't bothered to ask where they were headed, but he only had a few seconds to blink in surprise at the Shell Cottage in front of him, before the door of the house slammed open and Fleur appeared in the doorway, clad in her nightgown.

''Bill?'' she called. ''Chérie, is zat you ?''

''Yes,'' Bill called back as he and George approached the slim silhouette illuminated by the sunlight.

''Oh, thank goodness,'' she said, placing her hands on her husband's shoulders. ''I was worried – Oh...'' she trailed off as she noticed George and undoubtedly took in the state both he and Bill were in.

To her credit, she only remained speechless for a second before ushering them both inside. Bill slipped his hand around her waist as George hurried to get in, feeling ridiculously guilty for having caused her to worry, even if he had no idea Bill would be at the grave as well. He sat down on the sofa and Bill joined him, while Fleur announced she would be back soon with some tea. George almost told her not to leave, because he had no idea what to say to Bill after everything that had happened, could barely look at him. Bill seemed to be on the same wavelength, since he directed his gaze anywhere but at George, as if he had never seen his own house before.

The silence stretched on and George had started fidgeting and stealing glances at Bill when he thought he wasn't looking; basically behaving like a thirteen-year-old with a crush. When Fleur appeared, fully dressed and levitating two steaming mugs in front of her, George could have kissed her.

Fleur used her wand to set the mugs down on the table. Obviously sensing the tense situation, she shot the pair of them a look that clearly said _stop being idiots and talk to each other_, before exiting the room once more.

George scrambled to pick up his mug in an effort to appear occupied. However, his plan backfired spectacularly, since the tea was still too hot to consume. That was how he ended up sputtering liquid all over himself and narrowly avoiding dropping the mug to the ground. In the corner of his eye he could see Bill shaking and for a terrible moment he thought his brother was crying again, yet one look at him confirmed it was quite the opposite. Bill was shaking in an attempt to hold back his laughter. George glared at him.

''Don't look at me like that. You brought this on yourself,'' Bill said, sniggering.

George grumbled unintelligibly under his breath, only to have Bill laugh out loud.

''How many times have I told you not to pick up foods or drinks the moment they're served cause they're still too hot?''

''Where's the fun in that?'' George replied automatically, an answer he and Fred had given plenty of times over the years.

''Oh, yeah, because getting your tongue and throat burned must be real fun. I'm sorry I've been missing out all this time.'' Bill's eyes were dancing with mirth and George was experiencing a particularly strong urge to stick his tongue out at him. Instead he let his lips form a small smile and was glad to see it mirrored in Bill's face.

''You can come to me, you know,'' said Bill.

''Huh?''

''Whenever you feel like... the way you did today,'' Bill explained and George sobered up immediately. ''You can come to me, and we'll deal with it together. The same goes for the rest of the family.'' He straightened his posture and made sure he had George's whole attention before going on. ''I know it seems that way now, but you're not alone, George. You never will be.''

George looked at the honest face of his older brother, the same one who had taught him how to fly, who had comforted him after nightmares, who had never forgotten about him, even when he was abroad, and he felt his eyes welling up again, although this time for a different reason. He had to swallow hard before looking Bill in the eyes and saying, ''Thank you,'' making sure all his sincerity and gratitude were reflected in these two little words.

Bill laid out a hand on George's shoulder, clapped it, but instead of removing it afterwards he left it there, a small pressure, and George found himself leaning back to the touch as if seeking reassurance. They stayed that way, not exchanging any more words. This time the silence was not strained, but rather welcoming, soothing.

George didn't know how much time passed until Fleur walked in to see them leaning towards each other and couldn't conceal her smile. George, on the other hand, started feeling self-conscious, so he quickly got up from the sofa (and immediately missed the warmth of Bill's hand), and cleared his throat.

''So, er, I reckon I should go. Leave you two lovebirds alone and all that.''

Bill rolled his eyes as he too got up and stood in front of George. Then, before George could utter a single word, he whipped out his wand and waved it before George's face, along with a silent incantation.

''Oi, what did you do to me?'' George protested, his hands searching his face for any kind of damage. Everything appeared normal, except George could feel a weird cooling sensation.

Without answering, Bill directed the wand to himself, repeated the motions and George watched in surprise as the redness and swelling disappeared from Bill's face. It was as if the past hours had never happened.

''Okay, that is cool. Is that what you did to me? You have got to teach me that spell!'' George said excitedly.

''I know, yes, and no.''

''What? Why not?''

''Because I said so.''

''Oh, come on.''

''Nope.''

''I'm your brother!''

''Is that supposed to convince me?''

''_Bill!''_

''_George!''_

George let out a huff and stretched out his hand, in hopes of snatching Bill's wand and using it as leverage. However, Bill not only managed to avoid him easily, but also whack him on the back of the head with his other hand. Then, he simply stood there smirking as George gaped at him.

''Don't forget who taught you that trick, little brother,'' Bill said and this time George did stick his tongue out at him.

He took his own wand out and was getting ready to Disapparate, when Fleur walked up to him and threw her hands around him. He hugged her back, slightly startled, though not as much as when he heard her voice in his ear.

''You're going to be okay, you know,'' she whispered and then stepped back before George could say anything back (whether to thank her or tell her she was wrong, he didn't know), a smile playing at her lips.

''Right, I'll be off then,'' he announced after a couple of seconds.

''Remember what I said,'' Bill told him seriously.

George nodded, equally serious. The last thing he saw before he disappeared was Fleur resting her head on his brother's shoulder and Bill's expression becoming completely calm, Fleur's simple presence obviously much more effective than that mysterious spell.

_She might be right, after all._

* * *

******A/N: So, what did you think? I like this story a lot and would like to include more characters (namely the rest of the Weasleys, Harry and Hermione). I have several ideas for them and for additional chapters, _but _I need to know if what I've written so far is good enough and if anyone would be interested in reading more. Otherwise I can just end it here as a one-shot. So, if you could leave me a review saying what you think, it would truly mean a lot to me!**


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